


Downpour

by chanheeslatte



Series: Gently, Autumn [4]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 04:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanheeslatte/pseuds/chanheeslatte
Summary: Chinavo il capo, e pioveva.Non dicevo una parola agli amici, e l'acqua mi entrava nelle scarpe.- E. VittoriniIn which Seungmin is in love with Jeongin, but...





	Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited and my English is bad.  
I'm sorry. I just wanted to finally update the collection lol lol

The beds are still messed up, and the stuffy air is slowly dissolving thanks to the open window.  
Seungmin is laying on the floor, arms at his sides, and eyes on the ceiling.  
It is cold, all things considered, but the coldness will pass once the boy will make up his mind and come out of his room, leaving to have breakfast with his friends. It's just that he can't, nor wants to, do that: it sucks.

It sucks in the morning, when the sleepy voices of his members resonate between the kitchen and the living room, the vitamins are swallowed with difficulty, the rice falls on the floor because using chopsticks at seven in the morning isn't the easiest thing ever.  
And it sucks at night, too, when Hyunjin and Felix start to trade insults because _'turn to the right, asshole, or those morons will kill both of us'_, or when they're only six at the table, because Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are still working on new music.  
It sucks, each day more.

Falling in love sucks.  
Falling in love with your own best friend sucks way more.

He sighs heavily.

"Seungmin!" Jisung's voice calls him from outside.  
He hears the others laughing and joking around, and it feels like he's a kid again: his mum watching a drama in the living room, at night, while he listened to those muffled sounds from the desk of his room.

Seungmin does not want to get up. Lucky his legs don't seem to respond to his commands anymore.  
_We have to go_, he thinks. But he stays still and, maybe―just maybe, he understands he has no control over his decisions, too: the will defeats his senses.

"Kim Seungmin!"

_No, I'm not getting up. And, look, I'm doing it for real this time. _

Laying in this position all day long does not sound like a bad idea, at his ears, but then here are the butterflies in the stomach and Jeongin's face in front of his eyes―_why the hell did it appear on the ceiling?_―to make him worthless: does a remedy for your heart to stop pulsating so fast because of some high schooler exist?

He sighs again, because, for real, he does not know what to do.

The door bursts open and the voices suddenly become higher and more real. On one hand, he's quite glad he's not trapped in a dream.

He does not lift his head, but recognizes Jeongin's soft and clear voice. The very same voice he loves and hates at the same time.

"Hey, asshole!" And a pillow arrives straight in his face. Ah, no, it is not a pillow but Changbin's stupid stuffed animal.  
_Good morning to you too, Gyu. _

From the moment Jeongin took off his braces, he started to become more and more annoying than he already was.

Seungmin would like to curse, but he refrains from doing so: waking up God at this hour might lead him to misfortune for the rest of the day (or life).  
He's a smart guy, after all: he does not want to take the risk.

Thus, he does not move, nor gives Jeongin some kind of reaction. He just stays still, on the dry floor of the room he shares with Chan, Hyunjin, and Minho, and asks himself if wikihow has an article on _how to trade your own heart for the one of someone completely alexithymic_, or on _how to turn into the domestic kangaroo of Felix's family and move to Australia for the rest of your life. _

It does not make that much of a difference: Seungmin just wants Jeongin to leave the room as soon as possible because, even though he's trying hard to ignore his presence, his voice is driving him out of his mind.

_"Breakfast is ready, Woojin hyung wants you at the table, Binnie hyung will kill me if he knows I mistreated Gyu..."_

Seungmin can't take it anymore.  
_Shut up_, he'd like to say. _Shut up or my head will explode._

"Give me two minutes and I'll come." He whispers, in the end, with his classic nasal voice. He does not move a muscle.

"Thank God you talked to me." Jeongin says, still on the door frame. _Thank God you didn't come close, I'd say._ "I thought you were dead and was about to call the funeral home."

When he notices Seungmin does not react, however, he continues to talk. "Anyway, get up. Everyone's waiting for you. And you know we don't eat till everybody's there."

"I know." He hear himself say. I know. "Just... give me two minutes, huh?"

"But Chan said--"

"_Two minutes_." Answering abruptly was never in his plans, yet he isn't able to control the tone of his voice as he tries (and tries, and tries hard) to avoid Jeongin's hurt look. "Can you wait two fucking minutes, _please_?"

The other does not speak immediately. Maybe for Seungmin never answered to him like that, maybe for he thinks he has done something bad to his friend. "Okay..." he says, slowly. He isn't smiling anymore. "Okay, hyung."

Like that, he goes away. He leaves the room, slowly closes the door behind him and Seungmin listens to his light steps walking away, little by little.

Then, he hears some whispering, but doesn't try to understand what's going on. He hears the sound of the dishes, of the metal chopsticks and of the food that is swallowed. He hears the usual silence that lies on his members whenever it's time to eat. He hears everything that is the normality, from afar.

Seungmin turns on one side.  
_Bad move_, he thinks, when he finds Gyu's face (_can we even call it a face?_) in front of his own.  
It almost looks like it is smiling. This scoundrel.  
Yet, Seungmin doesn't turn around anymore, for staying there and staring at Gyu seems like a better perspective than facing his members and, especially, the guy he has a fat crush on.

"Hey, Gyu." He starts off, his voice low, as he gently caresses the plush's soft tummy. "Do you think all of this is normal?"

_Should I wait for a response?_

"Did you ever fall in love, Gyu?"

Maybe, he's going crazy. Or, maybe, he already was and now all his madness is coming out all at once.  
Fact is, he keeps on staring at that _thing_ and talking to it as if it could actually understand him and, perhaps, give him some advice.  
And, now, not even him, himself, knows why he's about to cry.

"I'm sure you never did." He sniffles up with his nose. "But I can assure you it isn't a beautiful thing. I mean, people say it is, but it only sucks. Like, a whole lot." He gently caresses the plush. "If it didn't suck, I wouldn't be here, talking to you, and, maybe, I could actually say I'm not a psycho. But it sucks and I do not know what to do anymore." Now he's crying: he feels the warm tears on his cheeks. "See? It sucks. God, how much it sucks. Falling in love is not the best feeling ever, Gyu. It just sucks."

And Seungmin certainly thinks so, when he takes Gyu in his arms and squeezes it hard, as he cries for that teenage love that has been tormenting him for days. 

____________________________

_No, no, no, no, no._

"Welcome home, Jeongin!"

_No- _

_BOOM! _

Confetti disperse in the air and land on the floor―_"it's Changbin's turn to clean up"_―and the annoying sound of whistles resonates in the room on the melody of, who knows why, hellevator. 

Jisung is the one that blows stronger than anyone else, and it is a miracle that the object has not already broken. 

Usually, they do not do these things: they never celebrate the return of one of the members from their holidays: it has become a more usual thing and usually does not last more than a few days.

But today, apparently, it's different.  
They are all so happy that the maknae is back and they don't even have a specific reason why they are. 

Perhaps, they just wanted an excuse to celebrate, the opportunity happened right before their eyes and they only caught it.

If you want to take Seungmin's staring look into account, however, it doesn't seem that _everyone is having fun._ Rather.  
The boy seems to have come out of the worst episode of _Pretty Little Liars_ and stands aside, cuddled on the sofa, blowing a pink balloon and then inhaling its air. He doesn't know how long he's been sitting there, but he knows he has no intention of getting up.

"Come on, Seungmin, come here!" 

_And what will _ _I_ _ do once I'm there with you? Pretend that all is well? Play the part of the helpless little puppy that everyone wants to see me play?_

"No." Candid, direct, concise.  
Seungmin does not want to react like this. Not now. Not ever. Yet, what can he do? What can he do to stop being so _sick_? 

"_Seungmin_." Chan is serious. More than usual, more than normal, more than most.  
Seungmin remembers it, the one who comes after the stern look of his leader: he lived it on his own skin, after all. He Remembers all the tears poured into the bed, the grasp of Hyunjin's arms around his back, the comforting words of Jisung. Jeongin's beating heart under his touch ― _"feel my beats, Seungmin. Don't be afraid. See? They are telling you that everything will be fine. You just have to trust me."_

And what if I trusted too much? 

"Seungmin, stop acting like that!  
We're all trying to spend a nice afternoon together, because we haven't done it for some time. Why can't you do it too? Why are you standing there on the sidelines? Is it so hard to get up from that piece of shit couch and come to greet Jeongin, one of your members, _the youngest of your members?_ Do you know how fucking much it hurts Jeongin to see you so ... so down after he arrived?" 

Seungmin does not respond. He gets up from the couch and starts walking. Towards the door, away from the members. 

"Seungmin!" He hears someone shouting, but he doesn't turn back. He puts on his still dirty shoes from the soccer game with Hyunjin of yesterday and pulls the handle down, opens the door and locks it behind him. 

He walks until he can no longer hear the curses of the others echoing in his ears. 

Maybe, now, it is time to cry.

_________________________

"Hyung..." 

Jeongin's voice almost sounds distant, for he cried a little too much.  
When he opens his eyes, his back glued to a wooden bench and only branches full of leaves to protect him from the rain, Seungmin finds the sweet face of his youngest member right in front of his own. He looks worried.

"Hyung, what are you doing here?" Asks Jeongin, his face getting closer and a hand grasping the other's arm gently. "It's raining, come home."  
Seungmin feels the other's breath on his skin, but does not dare to get up, or ask the younger to move away. He didn't bring an umbrella. "They are all worried. _We_ are all worried."

Seungmin does not speak, and still closes his eyes. To forget everything, to forget everyone.

But, even with his eyes closed, in a sea that exists only in his deepest fantasies, he sees the reflection of Jeongin, and wonders if all of this will pass. If not today, tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, one day. He keeps asking himself, and maybe he would find more answers if he asks his friend directly.

"What is going on, hyung?" 

"It's not like I imagined it. It's not like they described it to me." In the end he says, the voice low. He lies down, his eyes still closed, his legs still outstretched, his arms still covering his torso. 

"What?"

"_The sorrow of the heart._" He answers, because it is easier to be poetic now; because he knows he can't take it anymore. "Love, Jeongin. Love." 

"Are you in love, hyung?" 

A deafening silence of heavy footsteps echoes through his head. When he opens his eyes, he no longer feels anything.

He stares at the tall figure of Jeongin, contemplating it without shame, but with terror. Because ruining a friendship is easier than building it; because it is now or never. 

"I am." 

The words come out of his mouth without him noticing it, even though he knows it's what he wants. He is, and he is every day more. _I am, but please tell me you are too._

"And of whom?"

_Chinavo il capo, e pioveva_.  
_Non dicevo una parola agli amici, e l'acqua mi entrava nelle scarpe.**_

Seungmin is soggy. Drenched from the rain, soaked by his feelings, soaked with all the words he has on the tip of his tongue. 

Jeongin is dry. Dry, under the branches of the tree, under the docile eyes, under the smile that thinks it knows so much, but knows nothing.

"Of you." And he lets it slip from his lips, sitting up, still soaked from everything. 

"Of you." And he repeats it, the wind that rises and tears in his eyes. 

"Of you." He whispers, his eyes focused on those of the minor, his head turning, the rain beating on his slender body. 

"And I can't take it anymore." He says. "Because it sucks. So much. It sucks so much I hate myself. It sucks so much that I can't even stand up.

"But you know what? As much as this situation sucks, I love you so damn much.  
So much to go crazy. So much to die for."

But the more he looks at Jeongin in the eyes, the more he reads his thoughts, the more he understands that his story ends like this: in the middle, because it is unrequited love. In the middle, because it would be too marvellous to have an ending.

The more he looks at Jeongin's fragile body, the more his gaze tears his chest, the more he sees him leave. 

He looks desperately for a trace―even the smallest one―of love in the other's heart.  
When he does not find it, perhaps, he cries. Or, perhaps, laughs. Or, perhaps, he lets himself fall backwards, pretending to be anchored to a swing, in midair. 

He sighs softly, and then loudly.

He says that he already knew it, but he knows it is not true.  
Hope is the last to die, he says himself, but what happens when that, too, does? 

He sighs loudly, and then softly. 

Jeongin's eyes drop clear, innocent tears. The tears of a child who knows little, and who wants everything to be in his place. 

"I'm sorry, hyung." He says, hands on his face. "I'm so, so sorry." He's really sorry. But he can't know, he can't really know. 

Seungmin takes him in his arms and gently cradles him. He kisses his forehead. "It's all OK." He says. "It's all OK." 

Only the sobs of Jeongin surround them.  
  
  
  


** I bowed my head, and it was raining. I didn't say a word to friends, and water came into my shoes.


End file.
